


cut while shaving

by areyouabadwolf2



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Archie Andrews Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussion of Abortion, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Minor Character Death, Post 2.22, Southside Serpent Betty Cooper, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Teen Pregnancy, Veronica Left Riverdale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouabadwolf2/pseuds/areyouabadwolf2
Summary: Jughead Jones dropped out of high school the summer before his junior year, to get his GED and a brand-new serpent tattoo. From Prince of Darkness to King of Snakes, he put all his thought into the restoration, preservation, and protection of his gang.The Serpents rebuild under new reign. Jughead learns to balance the darkness inside himself, and in the town of Riverdale, to give his people their lives back. The battle against the powers that were, the likes of maple mongols and vindictive ghosts and Hiram Lodge, it took its toll. Prices were paid, people were lost. Things were done that changed the fates of those involved, things that can never be walked back.Now, after a period of comparative quiet, Veronica Lodge comes home after seven years away from the town with pep. Her return cuts at old wounds, and while there is relief in reunion, the Serpents once again find themselves facing a threat.No longer kids caught in the middle, Jughead, Betty, Archie, Veronica, and Cheryl must learn to face the music they’ve orchestrated through their own actions.--Set 8 years after episode 2x22. // Title from the Charles Bukowski poem.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! SO that finale inspired me, and I'm here with a new story. This one is cannon compliant, and not totally outlined yet, but I'm really excited for it! I sort of feel like Varchie wasn't given a lot of moments in the last episode (I'm not really a Varchie shipper, but still), so I wanted to try my hand at a story that really encompasses many of the characters and ships from the show. Any tags listed will be readily seen in the next chapter or two, but for now we start here. I hope you like this idea, I'm excited for the possibilities!
> 
> Basic premise follows the ending from the finale, but jumps 8 years.

As soon as the doors open, Jughead wishes he would’ve locked them. He doesn’t turn from where he’s polishing glasses, and calls out to whatever straggler has wandered in, “Sorry, we’re closed for a memorial service. You need a drink that bad, try Sabrina’s over in- “

 

“As much as I may need a drink, that’s not why I’m here.”

 

Jughead pauses before setting down the glass in his hand. With a small shake of his head, he can’t help but huff out a laugh as he turns to lean back against the bar, arms crossed.

 

“Veronica Lodge. I guess ghosts really do exist.” He appraises her as she steps up to the counter. With a sigh, Veronica seats herself in a stool halfway down from him. She’s in a black silk button up shirt dress, Louboutins hanging gracefully as she crosses her legs. Her hair is long, half way down her back. She looks sharper, if it’s possible, more like her mother than he remembered.

 

Her smile is just as stylized as it used to be though. “Jughead Jones. If someone would’ve told me what a James Dean you’d grow up to be, maybe things would’ve turned out different.”

 

The aforementioned scoffs. “Unlikely. I think the only thing that turned you off more than my self-imposed solitude, was the fact that every one of _my_ rebellions had very passionate causes. Most of which included the toppling of your family’s empire. You still a whiskey girl?”

 

“ _Former_ empire,” Veronica knits her fingers together. “And yes, you have a Rittenhouse?”

 

Jughead grins as he pulls the bottle down and begins to pour two glasses in front of her. “Wow, Rittenhouse? Figured you’d have demanded something higher on the shelves, closer to the Booker’s Rye.”

 

“Oh please, I know the Wyrm too well to expect you to carry something so _bourgeois_. Besides, my tastes have declined in value with time.” She clinks the offered glass to his and they both down the shots smoothly.

 

“Do you, Veronica?” Jughead turns his empty glass in between two fingers before saying, “Know the Wyrm, that is. I think too much has happened for us to pretend. You’ve been gone a long time now.”

Veronica looks down at the worn-out bar top. “I had to, Jughead. You don’t know what I did- “

 

“Except I do,” Jughead leans on his forearms. “Betty told me. Don’t be upset with her, it was a big secret to keep. It still is, considering we’re the ones who have to see him and not say anything. Which brings me to the Gucci pacyderm in the bar. What the hell are you doing here, _now_ of all times, Veronica?”

 

She searches his face, relieved not to see any venom there, just uncertainty. “I heard about Fred, from my mom. I’m sorry, Jug, I know he meant a lot to you.”

 

“He did,” Jughead nods, steeling his jaw from the sharp emotion of grief. “He meant a lot to this whole town. But I’m guessing you’re not here to offer comfort to me, are you?”

 

It’s not a question, so much as an accusation. She can tell by his voice, even after six years of separation, that he’s against whatever plan she has before he even hears it. If the circumstances weren’t so melancholy, Veronica might have laughed at how high school it felt.

 

“No, I’m not, but I’m not here for Archie either. Not really at least.”

 

Jughead narrows his eyes, “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m here for her, Jug,” Veronica sighs and he can hear the tears in her voice. “Fred never knew, obviously. Archie lost his _father,_ who was a good man. I don’t have that, and I’ve kept that from her now, too. I got my shit together. I have a law degree, I can move anywhere. If he’s…if he’s receptive to it, I’d like to come home and give them a chance to meet.”

 

“Her? Veronica, are you saying that-”

 

Veronica nods, “I didn’t go through with…I have a daughter, Jug. I had _Archie’s_ daughter.”

 

She watches him bark out a _fuck_ and scrub a hand down his face. He grabs the glasses and stalks away to the sink. “Jesus, Veronica, so you think showing up to his father’s _memorial service_ is a good time to drop this on him? After being gone for _seven years?_ That is so you, to make this about yourself somehow.”

 

“Hey, this isn’t about me,” Veronica stands and walks along the bar to follow him, her heels clicking. “It _isn’t._ I don’t plan to just show up at the service; I want to wait until tomorrow, after things wind down some. Whenever I do this, Jughead, it’s going to hurt him. At least…Look, if he doesn’t totally slam the door in our faces, at least she can maybe be some…comfort to him.”

 

Jughead braces his hands on the edge of the sink, and drops his head for several seconds. When he says nothing, she continues.

 

“I know, okay? Just, I came here to find _you,_ Jug, because I needed someone to help. And you’re…if you don’t, then no one will. I think he and I need to talk first, before…Can you help me, please? I don’t think he’ll be open to it if I just _call_ him out of the blue.”

 

He turns to her, and he suddenly looks older. “Yeah, Ronnie, I’ll help you. For the _kid,_ because she has no idea all the shit surrounding this. You’ve got a lot to make up for, you know? With Archie, with Betty, with this whole god damn town…”

 

She nods, knowing he’s not wrong.

 

“Alright, how about,” He scratches the back of his neck. “How about I pick you up at 4? He’ll be off work, I can take you over there then.”

 

“We’re at the Pembroke,” Veronica is about to agree before saying, “Oh, shit, no. I can’t leave her- “

 

“Betty can watch her.” Jughead says it very finally, and she’s reminded of his rank as king.

 

“Would she be willing to?”

 

Jughead smiles softly, “Yeah, she’ll appreciate the practice. Anyway, you’ve got to get lost, Veronica. This service starts in an hour and a half, but he and Mary will be here soon to set things up. I’ll call you, just leave your number on a napkin.”

 

Veronica nods bringing her wallet out of her bag. She pulls out a business card and slides it to him, before saying, “I’ll do you one better. How much for the whiskey?”

 

“On the house.” He swipes the card from the counter.

 

“Jughead- “

 

“Family doesn’t pay, Veronica. Even after six years, even after...” Jughead tilts his head down a little, looks her in the eye, before dropping the thought suddenly. “Hey, you never mentioned her name, you know.”

 

Her smile is wide, so unlike the girl who left Riverdale seven years ago. “Its Adrianna. Adrianna Elizabeth Andrews.”

 

His lip quirks a little at that. “Pretty.”

 

“Thanks, Jug. For everything. I owe you.” Veronica takes a deep breath.

 

A shadow crosses his face. “Your debt is starting to run deep there, Lodge. Tread lightly, there’s snakes afoot.”

 

\--

 

Betty rubs the back of the red head in the booth beside her, as Sierra McCoy conveys her condolences. Archie’s smile is guarded, and she knows he’s uncomfortable with all these people.

 

If you’d have told a 15-year-old Betty Cooper, that someday Archie Andrews would be out of place in a crowded room, she’d have laughed in your face. But due to the unfortunate events of their youth, about two-thirds of the people in this room had dragged Archie’s name through the mud, before ostracizing him altogether. This is probably the most words he’s spoken to any of them in years, and it’s all a façade in the wake of his father’s passing.

 

Betty blinks a few times as the former mayor departs, trying to rein in her emotions, which is hard with her pregnancy hormones in full swing. Fred Andrews was one of the best people she’d ever known. Kind, strong, sensible, compassionate; he’d taken her husband in when he was homeless, he’d fought for his only son when no one else would. He’d built her unborn son a crib just last month. Every time she’d looked at it in the last week, she couldn’t stop the tears.

 

Archie sighs under her arm, and sips at his beer. “Betty, you don’t have to stay with me the whole time, you know.”

 

“I know, Arch,” she shifts, trying to get comfortable but the table top is rubbing against her belly. “I can go if you want to be alone, but I know that…I know not everyone here is exactly being kind, and you shouldn’t have to face that alone.”

 

He turns his head to look at her and smiles sadly. “Is it wrong that I don’t even want to be here right now?”

 

“No. I’d be surprised if you did. Look, this part isn’t really for your dad, it’s for the people he left behind. The burial was for him, Arch, so if you need to step away from this, no one would blame you.”

 

“Yeah, they would, Betty,” Archie downs his lager. “I just…need a minute. Can I have your key?”

 

Betty wrestles her key chain from her clutch, “Sure, Arch. Take as long as you need.”

 

There’s a tight smile of thanks as he slides out of the booth, and slinks off towards the back stairway up to her apartment. Betty can’t help but sigh, thinking he used to look so much taller, he used to fill a room with his smile. Now he’s always trying to disappear.

 

Before she can stand to clear their table, the bartender in her kicking in, Jughead slips into the booth across from her. “Hey.”

 

“Hey, yourself, Jug.”

 

He quirks an eyebrow at her, “You can’t still be mad at me, Betts.”

 

“Actually,” she crosses her arms to rest on her bump, and watches as his gaze settles there for a few moments. “I _can_ still be mad. You should’ve called me the _second_ she walked into our bar, instead of me finding her card in your pocket.”

 

“Right, I should’ve, except _she_ asked me not to, because of all _this_ -” Jughead gestures to the service occurring around them, - “and not wanting to take anything away from it until after. Okay? And now, I’ve been _trying_ to tell you what the fuck is going on, but you haven’t left Archie’s side all damn night!”

 

Betty throws her hands up. “Of course, I haven’t Jug! It’s his _father’s memorial service._ You should’ve been sitting right here with us. Instead you’re, what? Conspiring with a _Lodge?”_

 

“Watch it, Betts, you and I both know her name is no good anymore,” Jughead sips at the whiskey glass she hadn’t noticed before and pulls at his tie. “Besides, I had to man the bar. As for conspiring, I left that back in Shankshaw, remember sweetheart?”

 

His grin is slick, clearly trying to soften her anger and its working. “You better have. I can’t have my baby daddy having _multiple_ felony convictions.”

 

“Thought you liked me reckless, Mrs. Jones.”

 

“Not if reckless means seeing your son through Plexiglas, Juggie,” Her tones serious again, as she reaches for his hands, which he easily gives her. “What did she want, after all this time?”

 

Jughead glances around, before nodding towards the back hallway. She waddles behind him, pausing as he tells Toni to take over on making drinks, despite her protests. They make it to his office, and he shuts and locks the sound proof door before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, before I say anything, I have to tell you that I have a very bad feeling about all this. Something is…off.”

 

Betty’s brow furrows, and she tugs at his forearm so he’ll meet her eyes. “What’s off, Jug?”

 

“Veronica…” Jughead takes a deep breath. “Remember when she left, and called to tell you- “

 

“That she was having an abortion and then never spoke to me again? _Yes,_ how could I forget my best friend dumping a secret on me like that, all while leaving Archie just as the whole Cassidy thing finally cleared up?”

 

Jughead looks down at her swollen belly. She’s 28 weeks today, and he tries to check his emotions as he thinks about never being able to meet his own child. “Well, she didn’t. Have an abortion, that is.”

 

Betty pulls away from him, arm curling around her bump. _“What?”_

“She had a daughter,” He moves to his desk and slumps into the chair, and rubs at his jaw. “She had _his_ daughter six years ago, and they’ve been in New York. She went to school, graduated law, of all things. Now, she wants to come back and-and _tell_ Archie.”

 

“So, she came to you because…?”

 

Jughead turns the wedding band on his left hand around a few times. “Because she needs help, and no one else in this town will touch her with a 10-foot pole. Veronica thinks that Archie wouldn’t want to talk long enough to tell him, and I don’t think she’s wrong. So, I told her I’d take her to him tomorrow, and you’re gonna watch the kid, by the way.”

 

“ _What?”_ Betty circles the desk to stand in front of him. “What the hell, Jones? Archie will _hate_ you, hate us both, if we do that!”

 

“Yeah, and he’ll hate us even more if we know about _his daughter_ and do nothing!”

 

His wife grits her teeth in frustration and looks away. “What does she want though, Jug? He doesn’t have any money, he just lost his father- “

 

“Honestly,” Jughead tugs her wrist so she steps in between his knees. “I think that _she_ thinks that she can fix this mess she made, Betts. I really believe that Veronica wants to give her daughter a father; I don’t think it’s so much about Archie, as it is Adrianna.”

 

“Adrianna?” Betty folds herself into his lap, despite her protruding belly.

 

Jughead tucks his face in the crook of her neck. “Yeah, that’s the kid’s name. Adrianna Elizabeth Andrews.”

 

Betty’s quiet for a long stretch. “Veronica left a lot of messes behind, Juggie. We’re still cleaning up.”

 

“I know, baby.”

 

She can’t help but smile sadly at him, “But she’s back now?”

 

“So, it seems,” Jughead’s nod is slow. “Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing yet.”

 

There’s a knock at the door, just as Betty says, “Knowing Veronica, probably both.”

 

They both stand and Jughead crosses the room to peak out the eye hole. He turns back to her and says, “You say _nothing_ to him, or anyone else for that matter, until I say so. Do you understand me?”

 

Betty can tell by his tone he’s talking to her as her king, not her husband. “Yes, of course.”

 

“Good,” Jughead slides the deadbolt and opens the door. “Arch, you doing alright, man?”

 

The red head’s mouth twists into a dry smile, “All things considered, I guess I could be worse. Toni said you guys were in here, by the way. I just didn’t want to be out there alone.”

 

Betty walks up to him and cups his cheek. “Of course, you didn’t, Archie. We’ll go sit with you, Jug can grab you another beer. This should be winding down soon enough anyway.”

 

“Thanks, Betty.”

 

As they reenter the room, and patrons offer Archie shallow condolences, Betty’s gut twists but it’s not from her son’s kicks. This man, her _best friend,_ has been in pain for years because of the biddings of Hiram Lodge, and then because of the heartbreak imposed by his daughter. These last few years he’s existed as a shell of himself, only really coming back to life with his father or in the moments where it was her, Jughead, and him, without talk of Serpents or the past.

 

Now she was going to reopen even more old wounds. Betty _knows_ that a kid could bring something good into Archie’s life, but she just isn’t sure about the fact that the kid comes with Veronica Lodge. Archie is unbelievably strong but even he has a breaking point, and she is his.

 

Jughead and her share a well-practiced conspiratorial look as he returns with a cranberry juice and two beers, years of secrets and being in power leaving them able to communicate with a glance. There’s a selfish, uncertain part of her that is concerned for what this means for the Serpents; her gang is strong, but the Lodge’s almost drove them into extinction once before. Everything is different now, and that almost feels like it raises the stakes higher.

 

Archie asks if he can crash upstairs tonight, and Betty agrees on autopilot, knowing that she’ll be complicit in whatever falls out from tomorrow’s events. There’s so much uncertainty in her life as Queen of the Serpents, but tonight, for the first time in a long time, she feels fear for what’s to come.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Details start to emerge as Jughead grapples with the implications of Veronica's return, prior to her reunion with Archie. A lot has happened, and a lot has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so I'm going to give a little warning that there will be some plot points introduced in this chapter that are a little dark and intentionally vague . I promise this will eventually all connect, but I'm planning a slow build up. 
> 
> In this iteration as King of the Serpents, Jughead is a little rougher around the edges. The relationships in this story will also be complicated, as this chapter shows. I really hope this chapter reads well! It does to me, but I also know how it connects with chapter 3, soo... Anyway, I hope you enjoy and thank you for the interest in my little story after just one chapter!

After spending the majority of the night conversing with Betty about Veronica’s return, Jughead falls asleep dreaming about ravens. When he wakes up, he spends a long time in bed thinking over everything. He’s gone through a rollercoaster of emotions in the last day, from furious to relieved to scared to determined.

 

Determined not to let things get out of hand like they did before. If he’s fucking with the Lodge’s again, in any capacity, he’s not going to have history repeating itself. Betty wants to ignore the situation until after Archie and Veronica talk, somehow making it out as if this is none of her and Jughead’s business.

 

Except it is. Because no matter what happens between Archie and Veronica tonight concerning their daughter, she still came back. That means a whole lot of skeletons are liable to be exposed, and a lot of heat is going to come at them for this. Riverdale’s a different town than it used to be, but its built on old wounds, many of which were made by a Lodge.

When Jughead finally emerges from the apartment the next morning, Archie is long gone. Knowing his wife is somewhere downstairs, that’s where he heads. In the bar, someone’s unloading a crate of liquor bottles.

 

“Thought I told you to stop climbing on the counters, Topaz.”

 

Cheryl spins where she’s standing on the back bar. “And I thought I told _you_ to start minding your own damn business, Jones.”

 

Only she would be all made up at 10 a.m., in a satiny white cowl neck halter top tucked into ripped black jeans, red bustier peeking out to match the suede red over-the-knee heeled boots she wore. For the first time in years, he’s taken aback by the scar running from the crest of one perfect cheekbone to the right corner of her lip. He knows the emotions conjured by Veronica Lodge’s sudden return has caused the remembrance of many things Jughead would just as soon forget, Cheryl’s disfigurement being one of them.

 

“I am minding my own damn business, this is my bar, remember? I sign your frigging paychecks,” Jughead slips behind the counter and offers a hand as Cheryl dramatically descends. “Speaking of people I employ, isn’t your wife supposed to be working today, not you?”

 

Cheryl begins polishing glasses, offering him a rag when he holds out his hand. “Another doctor’s appointment, I told Betty this morning.”

 

Before he can press her for more details, his own wife emerges from the back, clipboard in hand. “She did. Cher, I need you to inventory the top shelves in the stock room for me again, I can’t keep my balance on that damn step ladder. Morning, baby.”

 

The last part is punctuated with a peck to her husband’s cheek, but he stills her at the waist and gives her a proper kiss before letting her go to smack her ass as she moves past him. Her giggle is interrupted by Cheryl’s snark, “God, you straights are sickening. Aren’t you tired of each other yet?”

 

“Yes, Cherry, after finally watching Betty grow with my child, I realize we’re better off as friends,” Jughead bites back.

 

She shrugs nonchalantly, “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

 

Betty tosses her inventory clipboard on the counter. “Would you two stop for just five minutes? I can’t believe either of you exists in the realm of parenthood, considering you act like children yourselves.”

 

Jughead tosses his rag over his shoulder and crosses his arms. “Speaking of strange entrances into parenthood, Betts. I was thinking about what we talked about last night and- “

 

“And nothing,” Betty turns away from him, and Cheryl looks over with curiosity. “There’s nothing else to say, Jug, until we know more.”

 

“No, I think there is something more to say. Now, actually.”

 

His tone indicates there’s not much room for negotiation, and he hears his wife sigh. “Juggie…”

 

“I’m not asking here, Betts,” Jughead says. “I know you want to pretend this isn’t as big of a deal as it is, but it is and you know it. You ignore it, and shit could get worse. I’d rather be ahead of it.”

 

Before Betty can respond, they’re interrupted by Cheryl, whom Jughead had forgotten about with the serious change in the tone of the conversation.

 

“Excuse me, Lord and Lady, is that a secret you’re keeping from me?” Cheryl’s glaring, arms crossed and looking every bit the snake she is.

 

Jughead grits his teeth, “Cheryl, remember our little conversation about minding your own damn business?”

 

“No, because anything _you_ need to be ahead of, so do I. That’s how this works, Jones. I might be your employee in all things business legal, but I’m your right-hand girl in all things criminal and deviant. You’re speaking our language, I can tell. So, spill.”

 

Jughead sighs. If you’d have told him 8 years ago Cheryl Blossom (Topaz) would be his second, his literal partner in crime, he may have dropped dead. Now, despite her habitual snark and their constant banter, she’s the person he trusts most in the world, besides his wife. He’d literally have been dead in a gutter if it wasn’t for her, and that’s all the more reason he wishes she would stay out of this.

 

Everything him and Cheryl had been through was a direct result of what was left behind when Veronica Lodge left, and he’s not ready to let her in on that yet.

 

“Cheryl, I’m not telling you twice. Stay out of it.”

 

She steps up to him, ignoring Betty trying to placate her. “You can’t keep me out, Boss. That’s not the arrangement and you know it. You get sloppy without me.”

 

“You better watch your mouth, Red.” Jughead hates how cold his voice gets, how he can see immediately in her eyes the regret of pushing his buttons. “Before someone cuts it again. I told you, you’re out on this. And when I tell you something, you _fucking listen_ the first time _._ Remember who’s house you’re in.”

 

He can tell she wants to say something more, but he’s thankful she thinks better of it. “Yes, sir.”

 

Jughead scrubs a hand down his face, before whipping around to throw the forgotten rag on his shoulder harshly into the sink basin. “Good. Jesus fuck, I don’t know why you fight me on everything.”

 

Betty cuts in, seeing that her husband’s tension over the Veronica situation is manifesting towards her cousin. Not wanting to deal with their actual fighting any more than their teasing, she says, “Juggie, drop it.”

 

“Just, go do the inventory, okay?” He looks to his second, and he can tell she knows she overstepped, and that whatever is happening, is not to be taken lightly. “If you’re covering for Toni, you need to get someone to cover the Snake Pit; I know you were supposed to tend over there tonight. Call Sweets. Betty and I have somewhere to be, so you’re managing all night here until I’m back.”

 

Cheryl looks at him for a long press, and he wishes she wouldn’t, considering she can read him too well. Jughead can rea her too, so he knows she’s waiting for him to reassure her just a little. He obliges with a sigh.

 

“Look, you’ll know soon, I promise. Right now, leave it alone.” Jughead steps towards her, and tilts his head. “You know nothing, until you know everything, got it, Cheryl? Forget about it till then.”

 

She glares at him but nods curtly. “But I’m opening late.”

 

“Fine, then you stay late,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be sour, Cherry, I need you sharp.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

The redhead rounds the corner into the storage room to begin morning prep for the bar. Jughead hates keeping her out, almost as much as she hates being kept out, but for now he doesn’t know enough to let her in. If he drops the _V_ word without real details, Cheryl’s liable to maim someone. And as useful as her skills are with a bow, he prefers to save her talents for absolutely necessary situations.

 

His wife has been quiet for a while, and he feels her before he hears her. Sliding an arm around his abdomen from behind, her belly presses into him when she mumbles into his shoulder, “I know you’re upset, Jug, but don’t take it out on her. Especially not about this.”

 

“I’m not,” He turns so his back is against the counter, and places a hand on her bump. “I’m not upset, I’m fucking terrified, Betts. There’s so much shit that could come back up, with her back in town. And half of that shit is why Cheryl’s not going to know about this until she has to, because Veronica’s fucked her over enough, not to mention the twins- “

 

Betty cuts him off, “Jug, do not go there.”

 

He drops it, knowing it’s a sore spot even years later. All of this is sore, and he suspects it may always be. “This is a mistake, isn’t it? Meeting her today?”

 

“I don’t think it’s a mistake, per say,” Betty sags against him. “I just keep trying to think about his daughter, Jug, and not all the other stuff. But I do think it will change everything and that’s…I don’t know, Jug, what that is, I just know it’s not good.”

 

Jughead doesn’t reply, as there’s not much more to say. He places a kiss on the crown of her head, and tries not to dwell too hard on what’s to come.

 

\--

 

Betty locks up the office before shoving the keys into the silk lined pockets of her Serpent’s jacket. It was a custom piece that Jughead gifted her on their first wedding anniversary, it’s one of a kind. Now it won’t close over her baby bump, but she feels most like herself in it. Some queens wear crowns, Betty Jones wears a baby pink motor jacket, with her unique patch of two snakes curled together adorning her back.

 

She walks to the bar, where there’s a sizable crowd for 3:30 in the afternoon on a Tuesday. Jughead and Cheryl are bent together, whispering intensely. “Everything good?”

 

Jughead looks up, “Yeah, Betts, let’s go. Cheryl, I’m serious.”

 

“So am I, Boss,” She retorts.

 

“Well, tough shit,” He turns and starts walking away. “I find out you keep asking questions, and I’ll scalp all that pretty red hair of yours right off your skull.”

 

Betty rolls her eyes, knowing it’s an empty threat. Those two fought like cats and dogs, but they worked together like a well-oiled machine. It didn’t make much sense, and she usually kept out of the middle.

 

“ _Jones,”_ He turns at her voice, challenging her with a glare.

 

Cheryl deflates a little. “Just don’t make a mess I can’t clean up.”

 

Jughead sighs and gives her a small smile and a salute, before nodding to Betty to move to the door. As they settle into the car, with Betty driving, she asks, “What was that about?”

 

“Cheryl’s not happy I’m keeping something from her,” Jughead rolls down his window despite the October chill. “Neither I am. She’s worried it’s about business.”

 

“Ah,” Betty keeps driving, nerves stealing the closer they get to the Pembroke. “It sort of is though? I mean, if it gets out we’re working with a Lodge, we might- “

 

Jughead cuts her off, “We’re not working _with her._ This isn’t actual business, this is about Archie. It just involves Veronica, and that’s where we’re fucked.”

 

Betty’s quiet a long time. “We aren’t exactly working against her either, Jug.”

 

They don’t say anymore as they pull into the lot of the Pembroke with six minutes to spare. They’re both considering the repercussions of this, that maybe it will affect the Serpent’s dealings in the underbelly of Riverdale. Their money’s dirty, but the Lodge name is dirtier.

 

The car is idling, and Jughead looks to Betty, placing a hand on her knee when she makes no move to shut off the engine. “You good?”

 

She inhales sharply, “Jughead, I might kill her when I see her.”

 

Jughead almost laughs at the words, but he’s seen his wife do some shady shit over the last 8 years. He knows this is coming from an emotional place, that she’s referring to the anger of what her best friend did to her, to him, to Cheryl, to Archie. “I know, babe. It’s a tempting idea, if there wasn’t a six-year-old up there with her.”

 

Betty puts her head in her hands for a beat before sitting up straight. “You’re right. That’s Archie’s daughter, after all. Okay. Okay, Jug, let’s do this.”

 

They move into the lobby with a confidence that comes from years of being very good at being very bad. Betty smiles sweetly at the doorman, as they move to the elevator. They hold hands on the short ride, before finding the room. She stands back a bit, slightly behind Jughead, not looking forward to who would open the door.

 

It swings open before Jughead can bring down the hand he used to knock with. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

 

He shoulders past her, Betty’s hand in tow. “Yeah, well, I don’t go back on my word, Veronica.”

 

His backhand comment falls to deaf ears, while Betty and Veronica regard each other. The latter lets out a soft _oh, B_ at the sight of her swollen belly. Betty remains impassive, and he can practically feel the tension radiating off her. “Don’t bother, Veronica. I’m here for one reason only.”

 

“Right,” the raven-haired girl’s voice is small, maybe even hurt. “Well, I wrote everything down, but her dinner’s in the fridge. She can have a couple cookies for dessert. I already gave her a bath, and there’s PJs out if I’m not back by 8, which is when she goes to sleep. There’s movies on the TV to rent, books, whatever. Honestly, she’ll probably just want to show you all her toys, that’s what she usually does with new people. She shouldn’t be too- “

 

“Veronica, relax. She’s only a few years younger than the twins, Betty can manage.” Jughead isn’t in the mood to sit through a whole parenting lecture when his wife is capable of reading the instructions on the note. “Just introduce her and let’s get this show on the road.”

 

“God, I forgot all about the twins,” Veronica pauses to call out her daughter’s name. “How is Polly?”

 

Just as tiny feet pad down the hallway, Betty’s voice cuts the air with venom, “Polly’s gone.”

 

Veronica can’t respond, as all eyes shift to the little girl in the door way. Her dark hair seems to be all she inherited from her mother, as her fair skin, soft eyes, and sharp features are nearly identical to her father’s. Jughead breaths out a _holy shit._

“Shit’s a bad word.”

 

“Adrianna!” Veronica corrects her daughter, while Betty tries to not laugh.

 

The girl puts a hand on her hip; evidently, she has her mother’s attitude, “What, Mom? It is!”

 

Veronica rolls her eyes, not noticing her daughter do the same, “That doesn’t mean you say it _again.”_

Choosing her battles, she moves on, crouching down to be eye level with her daughter, “Riri, this is Betty and Jughead, Mommy’s…friends.”

 

The little girl silently appraises them, mouth twisting in a pout, before saying, “Jughead is a strange name.”

 

The aforementioned shrugs, “I’m a strange person.”

 

Adrianna smiles shyly, looking up to her mother for reassurance, before giggling. Jughead’s wink is enough to keep her laughing, the child grinning back at him.

 

“Betty is going to stay with you for a bit, while Jughead helps me with something, okay baby girl? You’ll be good?” Veronica brushes her daughter’s hair out of her face as she nods back at her. She kisses her forehead. “That’s my perfect girl.”

 

She stands and nods once at Jughead, who kisses Betty softly before moving back towards the door. As they make to exit the apartment, they here the two conversing behind them.

 

_“Is there a baby in your belly, Ms. Betty?”_

_“There is. What’s in your belly?”_

There’s a pause. _“Tacos. Mommy made them, but they weren’t very good. I only ate them to be nice.”_

Jughead cackles once they get into the hallway, while Veronica simply rolls her eyes again. “For Christ Sake, my daughter is way too much like me.”

 

“Poor thing.” He doesn’t need to see her face to feel the glare as they cut across the parking lot to his car.

 

“Jesus, what the hell is that?”

 

He looks from her to the car. It’s a dark red 1971 Plymouth Barracuda; its cool, but he’s not sure why she’s so incredulous. “It’s a car, Veronica. I know you never had to drive yourself-“

 

“No, you snake,” Veronica steps back from him. “I meant the _gun_ tucked into your back. What the fuck is that for? You brought that around my kid?”

 

He narrows his eyes, aware of the weight of the revolver in his waistband. “Relax. I learned the hard way the cost of going into a situation unarmed with Veronica Lodge. I’m not looking to repeat history.”

 

“Jughead, if you’re talking about what happened with Minetta, that was _years ago- “_

_“Shut the fuck up,_ Veronica,” Jughead’s voice is low and the air suddenly feels colder, despite the sun. He steps into her personal space, glares down at her in a way that makes her want to run. “I’m glad you’ve forgotten about the body we dropped, but the statute of limitations for murder in the first degree doesn’t forgive so easily.”

 

Veronica swallows hard, and can’t meet his eye. “I did what I had to. If you want to hold that against me, then fine.”

 

“Jesus, Veronica, of all the things I hold against you, that’s not one of them. I’m the only other person in the world who knows why you…Look, I’m not the kid I was 8 years ago, okay? The shit I do, there’s danger involved. I don’t get to play it safe anymore, because of what _you_ left me with. It’s just where I’m at. You’re worried about your kid seeing a gun, I’m worried about not living long enough to even meet mine.”

 

He looks like he might say more but he doesn’t. She moves around to the passenger side, and they open the doors. It’s silent as he starts up the car, the engine purring. “Hey, Jug?”

 

“Hmm?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

 

“What Betty said back there, about Polly being gone, did she mean…she’s not _dead,_ is she?”

 

Jughead laughs humorlessly, “No. That would sure solve a lot of problems though.”

 

Veronica blinks at that, realizing just how much she doesn’t know. “When did you guys get married?”

 

“What is this, twenty questions?” He runs a hand through his hair, and she notices the absent beanie. “Five and a half years ago.”

 

“So young,” Veronica half says it into the window, trying to figure out why they’re heading back to the Southside.

 

Jughead shrugs, “We were 19. No use in waiting. Besides, at the time we were in a…pinch. You can’t be made to testify against your spouse, so we needed to.”

 

Veronica whips her head around, wanting to press that particular topic, but then he’s mumbling _we’re here._ She almost corrects him, seeing as they’re in Sunnyside Trailer Park, but they pulling up to a trailer with a familiar looking truck out front. It takes a moment for her to place it as Fred’s old pick up.

 

“Jughead…”

 

He looks at her expectantly, before swinging out of the car. Over the roof top, he regards her. He’s half inclined to make her sit back down, and drop her outside of city limits with a warning to never come back. Veronica Lodge is about to walk up those creaky steps and break the heart of his best friend _again,_ and he gave her a freaking ride. That doesn’t even begin to touch all the other shit she’s bringing back into his life

 

“Veronica,” She looks at him, and is steeled by his sharp gaze. “You made a lot of mistakes when you left. You might never know how bad things were, what we all had to do. But you made a bigger mistake coming back. I just want you to know that when you walk in there, and ruin a good man for the second time. He’s been through hell, he’s still dealing with the fall out because of what you did- “

 

She cuts in, “What my _father_ did.”

 

Jughead drums his fingers on the car top, “Whatever you want to think, Ronnie. He loved you, and you left him for dead. Figuratively _and_ literally. You can come back into my bar, ask about my marriage, and act like nothing happened 8 years ago, but it did. You had to deal with your own shit, fine. But so have we. So, don’t expect the world to suddenly start spinning again just because the prodigal daughter returned; our world’s been burning for _years_. Don’t expect anything out of him; the things you did were _wrong,_ Veronica. And I’m not talking about not telling him about the kid.”

 

Veronica is about to reply, when the door of the trailer opens. She straightens up, while Jughead stays relaxed with one arm propped on the open door. Its impressive how casual he can be while still appearing menacing.

 

Her heart drops as a familiar face comes into view.

 

“Jug, what the hell?” Archie looks to his best friend for a long beat, before forcing himself to look at her, malice in his voice as he bites, “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and your interest is piqued! Drop a comment if it is! Till next time...


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flair as Archie and Cheryl find about about Veronica, and Jughead is stuck in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so first, THANK YOU for all the interest in the story so far! Second, I know that this story is very confusing right now, with so much unknown, but I promise in the next few chapters it all builds up to an explanation of sorts. Honestly, my initial intention was a 10-12 chapter fic, mostly central to the ships. BUT I really like the complicated story I've constructed, and since we have 5 months until new content, I decided this is going to be a long, intense, plot-driven fic, upwards of 20 chapters!! It'll be dramatic, dark, contentious, etc, just like our beloved Riverdale. So, hopefully you guys want to stick around for this rollercoaster!

“Jughead, what the hell?” Archie looks to his best friend for a long beat, before forcing himself to look at her, malice in his voice as he bites, “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

 

Before Veronica can even open her mouth, Archie is down the steps. She’s about to move away, before realizing he’s not coming towards her. He’s on Jughead before she knows it.

 

“What the fuck, man?” Archie’s got him by the collar of his t-shirt, and it makes the Southside Serpents emblem on the back fold over on itself, before shoving him hard enough into the car that it rocks. “What are you doing with her? You fucking brought her here?”

 

Jughead shoves at the redhead but he doesn’t budge. “Archie, calm down, I promise I can- “

 

He doesn’t finish the sentence, a sharp _crack_ inhibiting his ability to speak as Archie’s fist displaces the bridge of his noise. Veronica finally jumps out of her reverie and moves around the car, “Oh my god, Archie, stop!”

 

She gets to the head light before halting. Archie’s fist is retracting again, and Jughead’s face is impassive as the blood spills over his lips. In the blink of an eye, Jughead leans into Archie just enough to reach behind himself, and Veronica knows what he’s going for before he pulls it out.

 

Everyone freezes when Jughead cocks the revolver in the space between his best friend’s fifth and sixth rib, just below his heart. He turns and spits a mouthful of blood to the side. The car is still purring loudly, and in the background of the trailer park, life is continuing per usual. The two men stare each other down, both breathing harshly. In that moment, Veronica takes in the boys she used to know, and realizes how any fantasy she had about things being like they were before is dead and gone.

 

“I thought you said the last time you pulled a gun on me, it wouldn’t happen again.” Archie’s voice has a hint of humor to it, though his face is still furious.

 

Jughead leans back into the car and shoves the redhead away, lowering the gun. “If you’d stop giving me a reason, I might not have to anymore.”

 

“Well, fuck that, man,” Archie shakes his head, and points to her without looking. “When you show up without warning and bring _her._ I was in your apartment all night, Jug, did you know then that she was back?”

 

The Serpent is quiet for a few beats, then says lowly, “Look, I’m not telling you not to be mad. But I wouldn’t have brought her to you if I didn’t think it was important; I never would’ve done that to you if this wasn’t for your own good.”

 

“My own good? What the hell does that mean? Nothing good happens to me if she’s back.”

 

“ _Hey,”_ Veronica finally tires of being talked about. _“She_ is right here. And he’s right, Archie, I have something to tell you that I should’ve said a long time ago.”

 

Archie laughs without humor, “Well, save it. I don’t want to hear it now, Veronica.”

 

She hates that just the sound of him saying her name twists her stomach in knots, ones that aren’t derivatives of her anxiety but her affection.

 

“Arch,” Jughead steps up to him again, a hand on his shoulder to turn his attention away from her. “Listen to me, you have every right to be pissed about this, and if you don’t want to hear anything she has to say, that’s fine. I’ll get her out of town, and it’ll be like she was never here. But I am telling you right now, when she leaves, I’m going to tell you what she wants to say, and you’re going to wish you’d heard her out. You are, man, I know you are.”

 

The redhead closes his eyes for a very long time. “Jughead, I can’t- “

 

Veronica knows she has one chance, to give her daughter a father. It might not have the tactful delivery of the girl she was 8 years ago, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Adrianna matters, and Veronica will take whatever heat she has to for her. With the image of her baby girl in the front of her mind, Veronica blurts out, “Archie, I had a baby. I had our baby, after I…left.”

 

It’s quiet for a moment, and Archie turns his head slowly to regard her, to really look at her for the first time in almost 7 years. She wants to cry, to smile, to apologize under his gaze but she doesn’t know where to start.

 

The sound of Jughead uncocking his gun snaps everyone out of the momentary aftershock of Veronica’s declaration. Archie looks to the ground and steps away from his best friend, _“What?”_

 

“I had- _we_ have a daughter together.” At the word _daughter,_ his eyes snap back to hers.

 

His voice is low, “Seven years ago you were pregnant?”

 

“Six and a half, technically,” She shrugs, trying to hide the shake in her voice with nonchalance.

 

In that moment a phone rings, and Jughead turns away to bark into it, “What is it, Cherry?”

 

The voice in his ear sounds irritated, “Kevin’s here. He’s asking about you, says it’s time for a check in.”

 

“Well, did you tell him I’m in the middle of something?”

 

_“Obviously_ ,” He can hear Cheryl rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t care. He says you have an hour to get here, or he’s writing you up.”

 

Jughead hangs up the call without another word, suddenly twice as agitated. “Fuck.”

 

He turns back to the estranged pair, where Veronica is pleading with Archie to _just wait._ But he’s turning away and heading for the door of his trailer. As he passes her, she grabs him at the elbow, wanting to implore him to hear her out, “Archie, please, I want her to- “

 

“Stop, Veronica. I can’t- I don’t know what you thought I would say, but just stop.”

 

He moves the rest of the way up the steps and slams the door. Veronica’s hands are shaking, and she can’t seem to move from where she’s rooted in place. Only when another door, this one to the Plymouth, slams behind her does she jump. “Jughead, what are you doing?”

 

“I’m leaving,” he’s leaning out the window. “Now. Something came up, and there’s clearly nothing left to do here.”

 

Veronica circles to the driver’s side, “We can’t leave. I can’t leave, again. I have to tell him- “

 

Jughead revs the engine. “Get in the fucking car, Veronica. Archie doesn’t want to hear it right now, okay? He’ll need time to process all this. You being back in our lives is shocking enough, not mentioning you brought _his kid_ with you. And you know what, if he doesn’t come around, you fucking deserve it. Adrianna doesn’t, but you do. Honestly, so do I, if he never forgives me for dragging him back into our mess. Now, I have to get my wife, so she can set my fucking nose before I go meet my parole officer.”

 

She walks slowly back to the passenger side, and he’s backing out before she even shuts the door all the way. Veronica doesn’t even try to stop the tears as the run down her face. She hadn’t expected the pain of his anger and rejection to twist in her gut so sharply. She also hadn’t expected the wave of love, long since buried deep, when she saw his face that is so much like their daughters.

 

_This is it,_ she thinks. _This is heartbreak._

_\--_

“Jughead,” Betty is staring him down from the passenger seat. “What happened back there? Why are you bleeding?”

                                                                   

Her questions are obviously in reference to the fact that he’d showed up at the Pembroke in a bloody tizzy with a bawling Veronica. Thankfully, her daughter had been passed out in front of the t.v., as her mother shut herself in the bedroom immediately, not acknowledging either of them. Jughead had taken a minute to scoop up the little girl gently, and place her in the bed in the back room, telling Betty to leave a note for when Veronica emerged. Then he was rushing her out the door, telling her Kevin was at the Wyrm waiting for him.

He glanced quickly at his watch before pulling over on the road. “Okay, so Archie didn’t take it well, unsurprisingly. But that can wait, because right now you need to set my nose. He broke it.”

 

“He _what?”_

“He broke it,” Jughead gestures at his face. “Obviously. He punched me. I can’t show up to my parole meeting with a crooked nose. So please, do it quickly.”

 

Betty glares, before reaching to cup his face in both hands. “Fine.”

 

Jughead takes a deep breath and his wife leans in to kiss him swiftly. In that moment, her thumbs move from his cheek bones to press hard to the bridge of his nose. She’s strong, forcing pressure against the left side to reset his nasal bones. He grits his teeth, his grip on the wheel hard enough to force the steering column up. They never break eye contact, even as the bones _pop,_ and Betty winces.

 

She pulls away and he takes a moment to pound his fist on the dashboard a few times, before exhaling loudly _. “Fuck._ Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Betty fishes around in her purse as he throws the car into gear and pulls back onto the road. “Here.”

 

She’s leaning over the console as he drives to begin wiping at his mouth and nose with some make-up wipes, the whole situation commenced with practiced ease. “Damn, Betty, that fucking hurts.”

 

He swears she presses harder when he says that, just because she can.

 

Suddenly, she stops. “Wait, Jughead, why aren’t we going to the Wyrm?”

 

“Because,” he says, turning the wheel to make it up a winding driveway. “You’re staying at Cheryl’s tonight. Kevin’s just going to tear the place up, and then it’ll be forever before you can get to sleep. I need you rested, sweetheart, you got our baby to grow.”

 

She collects all the trash and shoves it into her bag with a huff, as the car idles to a stop. “Well, thanks for consulting me, Jug. Did you at least- “

 

“Call Toni? Yeah,” He nods to the porch of the farmhouse that occupies the place Thistlehouse once stood. Toni Topaz is leaning in the frame of the doorway, arms crossed as she nods to her king. Leaning against her is a young redheaded girl, who smiles at the sight of the car.

 

“Aunt Betty!” Jughead can’t help but grin when the girl runs down the porch as his wife opens the car door. “I missed you! Hi, Uncle Juggie.”

 

His wife wraps her arms around their niece, before shooing her out of the car, “We missed you, too, Junebug. Where’s your brother?”

 

“TT made him stay in bed. Dag was sick again this morning.”

 

Jughead remembers the conversation he had with Cheryl this morning and sighs. Betty leans over to press a kiss to his cheek and mumbles a _call me_ in his ear, before slipping out and taking Juniper’s hand. Her response is muffled by the car door, and Jughead watches them ascend the porch and walk through the door Toni holds open for them. She gives another nod to him as she follows them in, and Jughead is reversing out the drive.

 

\--

 

Jughead sets the cup on the top of the urinal as he does up his jeans. After quickly washing his hands, he snags the little container and stalks back out to the booth Kevin Keller is currently occupying. He slides the cup of piss down the table like it’s a shot, much to the disgust of his parole officer.

 

“Oh, wonderful,” Kevin says as he takes a napkin to make sure the lid is screwed on tight, before dropping it in a plastic bag and placing it on the seat beside him. “That’s not a health code violation or anything.”

 

Jughead hums, satisfied with himself. “It’s a good thing you’re not here for a health inspection then, isn’t it?”

 

Mid-eye roll, the man opposite him pauses, “What the hell happened to your face? That bruise is- “

 

“Irrelevant,” Jughead leans forward. “It was an accident in the stock room. Anyway, you did your search, you did your drug test, now ask your questions so I can pretend I care.”

 

Kevin gives him an unamused look as he takes out his notebook, and flips to a page reading _Jones, Forsythe Pendleton._ “Okay. Still holding a job?”

 

“Yes,” Jughead glances around at the bar. “Considering I still _own_ this place.”

 

“Jughead, please, can you lose the attitude? We’ve been doing this eight months now.”

 

He crosses his arms. “No, I had a shit day, so I’m going to find enjoyment in making yours shitty as well. I can’t help that you, for some asinine reason, have the world’s worst job. I’m just here to make it more insufferable.”

 

“Actually,” Kevin says with a squint and a tilt of his head. “You’re here so I don’t send you back to prison. So, I’ll need those pay stubs. Are there any weapons, drugs, paraphernalia, or other illegal items or substances that violate your parole on your person, in your car, or in your home?”

 

“No, to everything.”

 

“So, if I search- “

 

Jughead rolls his eyes. “You’ll find _nothing._ Of mine, at least. I can’t make any promises for my patrons here in the bar.”

 

“Well, I’ve already checked anyway.” Kevin says jotting down some notes. “Have you had any contact with other ex-cons since we last spoke?”

 

“No.”

 

Kevin scribbles some words. “Including your father?”

 

“Yes,” Jughead looks at his hands. “Including my father, I’ve had no contact.”

 

“Great,” he tries to see what Kevin’s writing, but it’s hard reading cursive upside down in shitty bar lighting. “Any contact with your pre-prison associates? Particularly, your former business partners, as well as…”

 

He’s listing some names, but Jughead is caught on the thought. _Technically,_ Veronica probably qualifies. If she does and he lies, and Kevin finds out, he may have to serve the rest of his three-year sentence back in Shankshaw. If he doesn’t lie, Kevin might decide to keep a closer eye on Jug, which could also land him in some hot water.

 

“Jughead?”

 

He looks up to Kevin’s questioning look. “I said, any contact with your pre-prison associates?”

 

“Um, yeah,” Jughead leans forward. “I think so. Listen though, I had no idea she was coming back around, she just showed up at the bar yesterday.”

 

Kevin is suddenly tense, but he’s also curious. “Who, Polly Cooper? As your parole officer, I have to advise you to _stay away- “_

Jughead waves a hand to cut him off. “No, _no,_ not Polly. Veronica. Veronica Lodge showed up yesterday, and I met with her again today. I don’t know whether or not that’s relevant, but I figured its better you know. That she’s back in town.”

 

The other man sits back slowly with a shocked expression. “ _Oh. My. God._ Jughead, what the hell? What did Betty say? Is she staying? Holy shit, Archie! Did anyone tell- “

 

“Kevin, slow down,” Jughead runs a hand through his hair. “You can come back tomorrow and we can talk about it as friends, but I’m not having this discussion with my parole officer, alright?”

 

Kevin rolls his eyes. “ _Fine._ But I’ll be here first thing, and I want all the details, Jones. Sorry, for the mess by the way. Appearances sake, and all.”

 

“Whatever, you just like trashing my place every few weeks.”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Kevin smiles as he stands. “And you like knowing I’ll never actually turn you in for any of the shit I find here, so long as you don’t tell me anything you shouldn’t. It’s a delightful arrangement.”

 

Jughead shrugs, and Kevin stands to leave. “Alright, Mr. Jones. Try and actually be here for the next home visit, okay?”

 

With that, Kevin Keller walks out of the bar, leaving Jughead to close his eyes and rub at his temples. He hears the sound of a body sliding across sticky vinyl as someone sit across from him. A cold glass is nudged against his elbow sitting on the table. “Made you a Godfather.”

 

He doesn’t open his eyes, “Thanks, Cherry.”

 

“What happened to your face? I’m genuinely curious, I’m not just trying to make a joke at your expense.”

 

Jughead rolls his eyes as he looks at her before knocking his whole drink back, swiping the glass, and heading for the bar. He hears her sigh as she follows behind him, taking the glass from him to begin making another drink.

 

“I got punched.”

 

He watches her work with ease. “What for?”

 

“Cheryl,” She turns to look at him, and hands him the drink which he sets down. He mirrors her position, crossing his arms and leaning one hip against the counter top. “I have to tell you something, and it isn’t good.”

 

Cheryl frowns with concern, and regret sits low in his belly as he watches the motion tug at her scar. “Jughead, what the hell is going on?”

 

He takes a sip of the drink, before setting it to the side. “Look, yesterday morning…Veronica Lodge came in here, and today I brought her to see Archie. And he punched me for it, but that’s really not the point.”

 

She’s quiet for a moment, and her gaze is running right through him. “Cher- “

 

He can’t finish his next statement because all of a sudden, there’s whiskey and amaretto being thrown into his face, followed by a sharp splintering as Cheryl throws the glass against the bar’s backsplash, causing patrons to gawk. Jughead’s wiping at his burning eyes with the collar of his t-shirt as she walks right out the front door, leaving him alone behind the counter.

 

“Well, leave it to Cheryl Topaz to _actually_ add insult to injury.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO?? I promise, next chapter, there will be some answers. Let me know what you think so far!


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Cheryl's anger doesn't cut so deep, and Betty starts to share her secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I went through this damn chapter a million times. Still not thrilled, but its more of a point to segue from than anything. I promise, the next chapter answers lots of questions!! 
> 
> Also, THANK YOU to everyone who is keeping up with this fic, and offering their comments! I love to see them, and I love that you guys appreciate the stories I make, it makes it all the stress editing worth it. 
> 
> And, uh, there's smut in here, be warned.

Cheryl comes in like a hurricane.

 

Betty and Toni had been on the couch, discussing the former’s perpetual apartment hunt, fretting over her need to nest and her husband’s unwillingness to pick a place.

 

Just as Toni’s telling her to _sign the damn lease yourself, Coop_ , there’s the thunder of wood cracking followed by a tirade of stomping. Betty’s immediately on edge, arm around her unborn son. “The hell was that?”

 

“Stay here,” Toni’s already flicked out her switch blade and is moving into the foyer. Betty disregards her command when she hears, “Baby, what the hell?”

 

In front of the simple staircase stands a furious Cheryl Topaz. She can see the front doorway is cracked in one corner, the door itself splintered as if from a swift kick, one hinge clearly compromised. _Well, that explains the noise._

Before either can repeat the question, Cheryl is pushing past her wife to stand before Betty. “Did you know?”

 

“Know what, Cher?” Betty tries to place a hand on her forearm, but the redhead flinches away, her face half in shadows. “I don’t understand what’s—“

 

Cheryl grabs her roughly by the collar of her sweater, long red nails scraping against the skin of her neck as she curls her hand into the juncture of her throat and shoulder. Betty yelps, but the other woman just pulls her close, unable to keep her voice down any longer. “ _Did you know about Veronica Lodge? Did you fucking know, you goddamn—“_

“What the _hell,_ Bombshell, are you insane?” Toni shoves her wife away, forcing space between the cousins. Betty takes her hand away from her throat, heart jumping when she sees the faint stain of blood from where Cheryl had sunk her claws in.

 

Cheryl is spitting something venomous at the other snake, and Betty vaguely realizes she’s recounting a story of Jughead telling her Veronica was back. She can’t really focus, feeling a little lightheaded, and stumbles back to sit on the stairs, barely catching herself on the railing. One hand steadies herself to lower onto a step, while the other presses into the top of her stomach, closing her eyes to the erratic kicks.

 

“—can’t fucking touch her like that, she’s your goddamn _Queen._ Veronica reappearing or not. _”_

Cheryl kicks at the already broken door. “ _Fuck that._ My _King_ already fucked me over! He should’ve thought twice before—“

 

“Dammit Cheryl, she’s pregnant! You can’t go _Kill Bill_ on her!” Toni glances over at the aforementioned woman, and does a double take. “Shit, Betty are you okay?”

 

Betty waves her off, still breathing a bit heavy from the panic, and tries to wipe the tears out of her eyes, not wanting to seem weak. “It’s fine, it’s just some scratches. You’re right, Cheryl, I should’ve told you. We should’ve told you, but we didn’t know what’s happening. We still don’t, and we didn’t want to cause all _this_ just for it to be nothing.”

 

Toni looks to her wife, eyebrows raised, awaiting a response. Cheryl just stares at Betty for too long before whispering, “It’s never nothing when it comes to the Lodges. You should know that by now.”

 

Then she’s stalking past both women and up the stairs, not pausing to spit out, “Tell Jones he’s riding solo tomorrow morning. I won’t be risking my skin for him anytime soon.”

 

Moments later there’s the slam of a door, too loud in the night. Before Betty can say anything, Toni beats her to it, but she isn’t directing her words at the blonde. “Hey kiddo, we didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

Betty looks over her shoulder to see a small boy at the top of the stairs. Her heart drops the way it always does when she sees the face so much like Polly’s; it breaks when she sees the dark bruises under his eyes, his frail frame and sunken eyes, his too pale skin, even for a redhead. He still has the band aid in his elbow from his doctor’s visit and the hospital band as well. “Hi, Dag.”

 

His voice is slow from sleepiness, weak and slightly slurred from his sickness. “Hi, Auntie B.”

 

“Baby, you need anything?”

 

The boy shakes his head at his surrogate mother. “No, TT. Just got scared.”

 

Toni sighs with a glance to Betty. “I’m sorry, Daggers. Let’s get you back to bed, alright?”

 

She shuffles past Betty up the stairs and scoops up the boy, who immediately sags into her small frame. As her hand rubs his back, Betty calls up softly, “Toni, it’s probably best I don’t stay tonight.”

 

“Yeah, give me 10 and I’ll take you home.”

 

Betty rest her hand on the juncture of her neck, thinking she deserved worse from Cheryl.

 

\--

 

Its somewhere close to one a.m., and Jughead’s at the bar. Having closed down early after Cheryl’s departure, he’s been sitting with his head in his hands after cleaning up.

 

_This is fucked. I’m fucked._

Two thoughts occupy his brain, and he doesn’t see them leaving anytime soon. At the moment, he’s trying to make sense of this, to plan a next step. But every direction seems to only offer a path of resistance.

 

He misses his wife. He hates that he hurt Archie. He should’ve told Cheryl. _He needs to talk to Veronica._

 

Just as Jughead considers vacating his bar stool in favor of staring at his bedroom ceiling, he hears the lock turning over in the front door. He turns his head, knowing it could only be a handful of people.

 

A feminine voices trail inside, “Jones, why are you sitting in the dark?”

 

“Because, Toni,” he sighs. “I’m trying to think.”

 

“Well, that’s never good.”

 

The lights flick on abruptly and he shuts his eyes, therefore missing the sight of Betty trudging in behind Toni. Its only when he hears her voice that he looks up again. “Thanks again, Toni. I’ll see you in the morning?”

 

“Sure thing,” Toni gives a two-finger salute and a pointed look at Jughead. “I’ll be here for the ride tomorrow, Jug. She’s gonna need some time to deal with this, so you’re stuck with me till then.”

 

He nods once, having expected Cheryl to drop the job they had to pull after everything. With that she slips out the door, the lock clicking back into place seconds after.

 

Betty moves towards him slowly. He swallows, wondering why she came home, but grateful for it. She stops in front of him and tugs him up, leading him to the stairs wordlessly.

 

There’s no words as they enter their apartment, and its only in their bedroom that she lets him go to look at him. Her hands are gentle as the trace the dark bruising across his nose, but he still clenches his jaw at the pain. Betty looks to his eyes as she cups his face with a calm, curious expression. She lets out a small sigh and slips close to his body to kiss him.

 

Jughead holds still as she sucks his bottom lip between her own, meeting her soft press with forceful eagerness. When she bites just a little, he can’t help but pull her by the hips, the swell of her belly keeping him at a distance.

 

There’s a slow walk back to their bed, Jughead steadying her by her waist until she pushes at his shoulders to get him to lay down first. His arousal presses to her when she straddles his lap, and he takes a moment to ask, “Baby, why’d you come home?”

 

“I didn’t think I should stay,” Betty lets a hand slip under his t-shirt hem. “After Cheryl showed up in such a furious state.”

 

“Ah, shit,” his expletive is half guilt for sending the devil her way and half pleasure when she grinds against him. “Sorry, sweetheart. I fucked that up— “

 

Betty takes her own shirt in her hands and pulls it off, followed by her bralette. “I know, Jug. That’s why I came home.”

 

She leans over him at that, and edges his shirt up as she does so. He adjusts enough to remove it, and snakes an arm around her to pull her as close as he can, loving the feel of her body pressed into his, especially in her current state. Jughead has a borderline obsessive appreciation for her pregnant form.

 

He stops when he sees the scratches on her throat. She twists her mouth sadly, and simply says, “She wasn’t thinking straight. I’m okay.”

 

Jughead wants to break Cheryl’s wrists in that moment, but then Betty’s moving her hips again and he saves his anger for tomorrow.

 

They don’t kiss again, instead she nips and sucks along his jaw, his throat, his collar bone, while he slides his hand down the back of her leggings to grope her ass. Her hand deftly works his belt undone, and as her hand slips into his briefs, she says, “Juggie, I want to make you feel good.”

 

“You do, baby, you always do,” He’s tugging at his wife’s leggings and panties with some urgency now, not sure where its coming from but following it anyway. “Want you to feel good, too.”

 

“No,” Betty shakes her head and sits up in his lap once they rid her of her bottoms, now totally naked. “Jug, just you. I know this has all been… a lot. And it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. So, let me take care of you.”

 

Jughead wants to tell her that he’s fine just to be close to her, but he knows this side of Betty well. It’s a sexual side of her born totally from her role as his Queen, one she happily took on without prompting. He never in his life thought he’d enjoy sex that didn’t feature Betty as the center of attention, but he does. And so does she, even if it’s not the point.

 

Betty _knows._ How much he’s done, the things he still has to do, all the secrets he keeps. And she knows when he needs to get out his own head, and the best way to do so is to let him take her however he needs to. Sometimes he needs her to take control for him, and other times she’s at his expense; either way, when Jughead needs her, she’s always there.

 

It’s still full of love, knowing he can be vulnerable with her like this to let his frustrations out on her or to have her take the weight from his shoulders. In fact, Betty wouldn’t be surprised if it was in one of these trysts that their son was accidentally conceived.

 

Now, Betty’s naked atop him and moves to rid him of his pants and briefs before straddling his lower stomach. She readjusts so the head of his cock parts her wet slit, and nudges her entrance. Jughead curses, one hand already gripping her thigh too tight.

 

Betty shifts her hips so he eases into her just a little more, and whispers in his ear, “Let me worship my King, Juggie.”

 

But Jughead doesn’t want to let her ride him slowly, lovingly, and let her ease his mind.  He’s filled with complicated emotions, needing an outlet, and she’s here offering. He meets her hips for a few upward thrusts before sitting up and pushing at her body, “On your knees, Betts. I just- I can’t be gentle with you right now.”

 

“So, don’t be. Just take what you need.” Betty obliges as she settles on her forearms with her back arched, her baby bump comfortably resting on the pile of their comforter.

 

Jughead doesn’t hesitate. He’s inside her as she lets out a cry, but he ignores it to drag her over his cock with fast, harsh pulls on her hips.

 

There’s a sharp smack and a whimper when he spanks her ass. Jughead presses her shoulder blades down, and ruts himself into her too quickly, too roughly, forcing an orgasm out of her already. She’s insanely tight around him as she bears down on the bed for purchase, pressing the side of her face against the cool sheets.

 

He doesn’t let up on her body, making her sob out at the overstimulation. There’s a vague awareness of her babbling his name as he fucks her, but he’s lost to the grip of her pussy and the thought of getting off.

 

It works, this method of distraction.

 

He leans over her back, keeping up the brutal pace, and braces one hand by her shoulder while the other grabs at her ass as he pounds away. His breath is uneven, and he knows he’ll blow his load soon, and he doesn’t even care that this only took a matter of minutes.

 

The orgasm takes him by surprise, and he loops the hand previously groping her ass under the curve of her bump to keep her close while he pumps into her. Jughead cums in hot spurts inside her, punctuating each with a curse and a thrust. If they were making love, he’d be pressing at her clit to get her off too, but they’re not, so he doesn’t.

 

Jughead drops her and rolls off, his cock still throbbing and messy with their cum. “Clean it off.”

 

Betty’s wobbly as she turns over and sits up. She doesn’t hesitate as she slips his still hard member into her mouth, accustomed to his stamina. He can’t help the jerk of his hips farther into her throat when she bottoms out on his cock. He likes the way she whimpers around him.

 

It’s almost too sensitive, but he threads his fingers into her hair and guides her over him anyway. He can feel the tightness in his balls, knows he could get off again like this if she keeps it up. And she will, if he has anything to do with it.

 

Jughead closes his eyes and tells her as much, letting himself blank out to the feel of his wife gagging on his cock.

 

“Shit,” He holds her head still so he can thrust into her mouth as he cums again. Letting go of her hair immediately after, he lets her up.

 

There’s cum on her lips as she sits up on her knees, and he loves the way she licks it off. Jughead pulls at her arm to get her to tuck into his side, not offering any reciprocation for what she just did. He closes his eyes to take full advantage of the post-coital haze in his mind.

 

As his breathing evens out, he feels her body shift against his, her belly coming to rest on his side and her head over his heart. When he feels a strange nudge against his ribs, the motion of their son reminds him of the late hour. “Betty, you need to sleep now.”

 

“Will you?” Her voice is soft in his collarbone.

 

Jughead sighs and strokes the curve of her waist. “Probably not.”

 

“Jug,” Betty sits up and he finally opens his eyes to try and read her face. He can’t. “Maybe we should talk about this, about everything.”

 

“I know.”

 

Betty traces his lips with her fingertips, tilting his chin so they’re looking each other in the eye. “I know there’s a lot I don’t know when it comes to what went down back then, to keep me safe. There’s things Archie won’t tell me from before, during the trial either. It never had anything to do with the Serpents, so I didn’t push it. But Jug, she came to our home. She’s in our territory now, and it means something. Also…”

 

Jughead searches her eyes as she breaks their gaze. “What, Betts?”

 

“There’s things…” Betty sighs, looking conflicted. “There’s things you don’t know either.”

 

He pulls back at that. “Wait, what? what Archie and Cheryl chose to keep private is theirs, but I never kept— “

 

“I know, I know,” Betty swallows and sits up, putting her hands to her forehead, dragging them through her tangled hair. “I know that, Jug. I just never thought she’d be back. If I would’ve said something, I could’ve lost _everything._ All that we have; or most of it, at least. She was—they were keeping me quiet. It would’ve never mattered, if she hadn’t have come back.”

 

Jughead is out of the bed, more awake than he was before. He starts pacing, forgetting his nudity. “ _Keeping you quiet?_ For what, Betts? Who’s _they?_ I swear to God, Betts, if you took a bribe from—“

 

He stops mid-threat when he sees the look on her face. _Fuck, she did._

 

Snatching his jeans off the floor, he yanks them up quickly before pointing a finger at her accusatorily. “The hell were you thinking? No piece of information is worth keeping hush if it comes at a debt to the—“

 

“It wasn’t!” Betty’s sitting up on her knees in the middle of their bed, one hand curled around her bump. He throws a t-shirt at her, wondering how the night managed to go even more sideways. “Jughead, _listen to me._ I was 17, I wasn’t thinking like I would’ve today; although, I probably would’ve done the same thing. It was from Veronica, not her parents, about the abortion.”

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and regrets it at the sting of pain from the freshly reset break. “Did she gave you hush money not to tell Archie?”

 

“Not initially, Juggie,” Betty sighs. “The Lodge’s wanted to pay me _to_ tell Archie. Then Veronica…I told her, and she freaked. That was the last phone call; she told me she was having the abortion, which I already knew, because her parents wanted to take the baby. And they thought, if Archie knew, he’d stop her or convince her not to. I didn’t realize that…I had thought he should know as the baby’s _father,_ but they wanted to use him to hurt her.”

 

Jughead is quiet trying to understand this new information. Betty presses on.

 

“When Veronica told me, I realized I was being used too. That’s when I asked…that’s when I _suggested_ we take matters into our own hands. But Veronica, she didn’t want Archie to know at all; so, she gave me the Snake Pit to stay quiet. I never told you that, I know you thought I bought it with that inheritance from Clifford, but Veronica signed it over to me.”

 

“Holy shit, Betts,” Jughead drags a hand through his hair, before putting his hands on his hips. “You didn’t think that was need to know information, babe? We fucking run that place! You, of all people, should’ve told me.”

 

Betty nods. “I know, Jug. It was a mistake—“

 

“I don’t want to hear it!” He snaps loudly, and he knows immediately he was too harsh. “Fucking first it’s Archie, then Cheryl, and now _you._ Who the hell am I supposed to go to right now, to figure out how to get out of this? They aren’t going to talk to me, and you haven’t told me the whole truth? I thought we left this in the past, Betts.”

 

“We did! We can figure this out. I’m your wife, Jughead, you always can come to me.”

 

He scoffs, frustrated enough to dig at old wounds. “Right, because the last time you kept me out, it went so well for us.”

 

“This is _nothing_ like what happened with Polly.” Her voice breaks a little at the end.

 

Jughead sighs, and in the exhale, he feels himself deflate a bit. “Baby, you know this could be worse.”

 

“I know,” Betty looks down at her hands, and he knows there’s tears on face. How the hell did they end up here? “Juggie, I didn’t keep any of it from you _because_ of you.”

 

“I know that.”

 

She scrubs at her eyes. “You still trust me?”

 

Jughead regards her. It’s a loaded question. He trusts her with his life, his love, his money, his gun, his heart, his baby. Does he trust her with information? Yeah, even if she has a habit of withholding the whole truth, he trusts her endlessly.

 

This might not mean anything, anyway.

 

“Always, Betty.” He looks her in the eye, so she knows he means it. “With everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO? Hopefully you guys don't hate this chapter as much as I do, I promise it gets better, this was just a weird part to write. I'm mostly dropping the last of the breadcrumbs. Anyway, thanks for being patient with me, I love y'all. This fic, because its SO plot heavy probably won't be updated at the same pace as my other stuff, but I will try!! Till next time!!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I know there's lots of questions of what and how introduced, and I'm excited to answer them all in this little story! Until next time.


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